Space pirates. Fenris felt a wave of dizziness; what was happening? One disaster after another.

  Actually, the most distressed person was Garvey. He was furious; they’d been targeted by space pirates. In the command room, Garvey pointed his weapon at the captain's head.

  “Tell them we surrender; let them board.”

  The situation was clear: this civilian ship was no match for the pirates’ modified vessel. But surrendering didn't guarantee safety.

  Garvey wasn't ready to give up; falling into the pirates' hands would be no better than facing the Swarm.

  The captain, following Garvey's orders, sent a surrender message to the pirate ship.

  “We surrender. Don't attack.”

  “Cut the crap. Hand over ship control.”

  The pirates weren't stupid; they weren't lulled into complacency by the surrender; these were seasoned criminals.

  The captain looked to Garvey.

  “Give it to them,” Garvey growled.

  “Yes, I'm handing over ship control now,” the captain replied to the pirates.

  Garvey lowered his weapon and left with his men.

  The other refugees were helpless, cowering in fear.

  Unsurprisingly, the ship approached the pirate vessel.

  The two ships were about to dock.

  Fenris anticipated a desperate fight; the question was who would win. Regardless of the victor, the outcome wouldn't be pleasant; the best-case scenario was a stalemate.

  Garvey and his men hid in a blind spot in the corridor. Their plan was simple: during the docking procedure, they would storm the pirate ship and seize control.

  With a loud clang, the two ships connected.

  The docking clamps engaged; the connecting corridor…

  The heavy doors slowly opened, and a horde of pirates surged in, anticipating a feast.

  Garvey gave the signal. “Go!”

  Before the pirates could fully celebrate, armed soldiers emerged from both sides of the corridor, launching a counterattack.

  “Damn! Ambush!”

  Screams echoed; pirates fell.

  Garvey led his men towards the pirate ship; it was now uncontrollable; their only chance was to seize it. Under normal circumstances, the pirates would have severed the connection.

  But the pirates didn't retreat; they counterattacked.

  This unusual behavior gave Garvey a very bad feeling.

  Then, heavy footsteps echoed.

  With each step, the corridor shook.

  A light mech emerged from the rear corridor; the pirates' faces lit up with excitement.

  “The Boss is here!”

  Seeing the mech, Garvey yelled, “Retreat!”

  The mech raised its arms; numerous dark barrels extended from its body. This mech, too, had been heavily modified, armed with numerous light weapons ideal for shipboard combat.

  “Roar!”

  A barrage of fire ripped through Garvey’s men, shredding them.

  Garvey leaped, diving into a nearby alcove.

  The mech’s underarm opened, revealing a 65mm explosive cannon.

  A devastating blast erupted.

  With a thunderous explosion, Garvey, who’d sought refuge in the alcove, was hurled away by the shockwave, crashing to the floor. His lower body was gone.

  Blood stained the metal floor; he was undeniably dead.

  Human life: sometimes incredibly resilient, sometimes tragically fragile.

  Garvey’s death couldn't stop the pirates’ advance.

  A rough voice boomed from the mech. “Kill them all! Eliminate all resistance!”

  Fueled by their leader's words, the pirates surged forward.

  Seeing the pirates swarm in, Fenris knew his side had lost—and quickly. The disparity in strength was immense.

  Despair etched itself on everyone's faces; things couldn't get any worse.

  “Boss, what do we do with these people?”

  A clean-shaven, heavily bearded man in light infantry armor, his gaze cold and cruel, surveyed the crowd.

  “Take the women. Leave the men here; we'll package them up and sell them when we get back.”

  “Alright.”

  The pirates rubbed their hands excitedly, eyeing several attractive women.

  Fenris lowered his head, lost in thought.

  The pirates entered the crowd, grabbing women and kicking aside men, starting their plunder.

  Chaos erupted; pleas, screams, and cries filled the hall.

  Fenris narrowed his eyes. The pirate leader, the heavily bearded man in light infantry armor, wasn't wearing advanced armor; it wouldn't offer complete protection, presenting an opportunity.

  Amidst the chaos, Fenris silently moved towards the leader.

  Passing a young girl, she glanced at him.

  Fenris made a silencing gesture.

  The leader twisted his neck, enjoying the chaos.

  Fenris approached undetected. He lunged at the leader.

  The leader was startled. He reacted, raising his weapon, but just as he did so—

  Fenris vanished. Before the leader could react—

  Fenris had taken another weapon from the leader's side.

  A second later, Fenris held the weapon to the leader's head.

  “Make a move, and you’re dead.”

  The other pirates reacted, aiming their weapons at Fenris; a tense standoff ensued.

  “You think you can get away with kidnapping me?” the leader sneered, remarkably calm.

  Fenris ignored him. “Remove your armor. Five seconds. Don't test me.”

  The leader’s complacency was his undoing; he hadn't donned his helmet. He hadn't anticipated this; he assumed there would be no resistance, which is why he’d disembarked from the light mech.

  “Kid, you’re brutal.”

  The leader heard the threat in Fenris’s voice; he removed his armor.

  The armor’s internal locking mechanisms clicked open; the pieces fell to the ground.

  The leader hadn’t considered fighting back; the youth's skill was unnerving, unlike anything he'd seen before.

  A tense standoff ensued; neither side yielded, neither could.

  For Fenris, there was no escape. Captured, his fate was sealed. Even if he subdued the leader, the pirates wouldn't back down. If he released the leader, whatever conditions he demanded would be futile; the ship was under pirate control. A small escape craft was unrealistic; fuel aside, attempting escape meant certain destruction.

  Forcing the leader to leave? The pirates wouldn’t agree; they might kill him anyway. The pirate world was far more ruthless than he’d imagined.

  A communication signal reached the leader's wristband.

  The wristband beeped incessantly; the leader ignored it.

  Fenris reached out and tapped the wristband; an anxious voice sounded.

  “No good, Boss! We’re surrounded!”

  “Surrounded?” The other pirates were shocked. What was happening? Things were getting interesting.

  Fenris was equally astonished. What was this? Rival pirates? A turf war? The odds were astronomically low.

  “Who is it?” the leader calmly asked, proving his mettle.

  “We… we don’t know. But we can’t win; their fleet is a major power.” The pirates’ voices trembled over the comms.

  The ship lurched violently; someone was forcibly boarding.

  The leader kept trying to escape Fenris’s grip, but it was hopeless; Fenris held on tight.

  “Kid, you better let me go. We all have a chance to live; otherwise, we'll all die.” the leader said coldly.

  Fenris didn’t hesitate. “No chance.”

  Things couldn't get much worse, but when he heard that the opposing fleet was a major power, Fenris felt a glimmer of hope.

  Soon, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor; over a hundred soldiers in pristine armor stormed in.

  “Scum! Drop your weapons before we have to get rough!”

  A confident voice boomed from behind. A man strode forward, his hair neatly trimmed, a smile on his face, his eyebrows raised high.

  “Captain, those aren’t just ‘scum’; they're pirates,” a short-haired female officer beside him sighed.

  “Well, it’s practically the same thing.”

  “Pirates are brutal and cunning; there’s a difference.”

  “Captain, you need to acknowledge your mistake.”

  The man took a deep breath. “I understand.”

  He then addressed the pirates. “Drop your weapons, hands on your heads, and huddle in the corner. Anyone who wants to resist, step forward now.”

  The pirates were silent; if they dared, they would have cursed.

  The newcomers' equipment was far superior; any single soldier was better equipped than their boss. What was the point of fighting?

  The pirates surrendered.

  The leader’s expression was sardonic; in his eyes, these newcomers were no better.

  Everyone dropped their weapons, except Fenris, who still held the leader at gunpoint.

  “Captain, that one still hasn’t dropped his weapon.”

  The seemingly nonchalant captain stroked his chin. “I noticed.”

  He walked towards Fenris. “Drop your weapon.”

  Fenris released his grip; the weapon clattered to the floor.

  The huddled refugees looked at these newcomers with apprehension; no one knew if they were any better than the pirates.

  The captain, seeing their fear, cleared his throat.

  “Don’t worry; we were just passing by and saw the pirates; we decided to help.”

  The leader scoffed. “You’re awfully kind.”

  The captain stepped closer to the leader; their faces were inches apart. “Don’t judge everyone by your own filth; kindness still prevails in this world.”

  “Hilarious.” The leader sneered, twisting his neck to the side.

  Ignoring the leader, the captain placed a hand on his chest, speaking solemnly in a reassuring voice.

  “Friends, I am Cromi. I personally guarantee your safety, but I need some answers.”

  As soon as Cromi finished speaking, many of the tense survivors collapsed, weeping.

  Fenris, who had remained silent, suddenly spoke. “What do you want to know?”

  Cromi looked at Fenris, a smile playing on his lips. “Which planet are you from?”

  “Belloc.”

  Cromi's eyes widened at Fenris’s answer; Belloc.

  “What’s the situation on Belloc?”

  “It’s been overrun by the Swarm. We’re among the few survivors,” Fenris replied.

  Cromi’s smile froze; it seemed he'd received the terrible answer he'd anticipated.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Good, we have our information. What about these people?” Minogue, Cromi's short-haired companion, asked.

  “They’re refugees; naturally, we’ll take them in.”

  “Oh, you’re going to create more trouble for yourself!” the other soldiers grumbled.

  “This isn’t trouble, Minogue. Go and get the Captain’s authorization for their acceptance.” Cromi said seriously.

  Minogue, the short-haired woman, sighed in response.

  “I’m not involved in that.”

  “Nonsense, the Captain will approve.” Cromi dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

  “We can be taken in?”

  Those who hadn't held out hope erupted in joyous cries.

  Minogue activated her wristband; a holographic interface appeared; she tapped a few times.

  “Connecting to the Captain.”

  “Connecting… authorization granted… connection established.”

  A figure materialized—a stern-faced man with graying temples.

  “What is it?”

  Cromi smiled and presented the situation. “We've gathered information; Belloc has fallen to the Swarm. This ship, captured by pirates, is a refugee vessel, therefore…”

  “You want to take them in?” the Captain frowned.

  “Not I, but we.” Cromi quickly corrected.

  The Captain seemed troubled. “You’re in charge of integration. Any problems, you’re responsible.”

  “No problem.” Cromi cheerfully replied.

  “Hurry up. We’re about to adjust course. If those insects notice us, it’ll be a huge problem.” the Captain warned.

  “Yes, Captain.” Cromi responded seriously.

  After the communication ended, Cromi breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Let me go! I’m not a pirate!” a struggling voice came from behind.

  Two soldiers dragged a naked, overweight man into view.

  Cromi looked at the overweight man. “What’s going on here?”

  “We found him… doing something unspeakable.”

  “You have no right to control us! This ship is ours!” the man cried, terrified.

  Cromi approached; the man’s fear intensified.

  Without hesitation, Cromi punched him in the stomach.

  “Aaargh!”

  A sound like a pig being slaughtered.

  “We also apprehended some who planned a revolt,” the soldier continued.

  “Anyone who committed crimes stays on the ship; let them fend for themselves. Release the pirates; integrate the refugees; complete everything within twelve hours.”

  “Where are we going?” someone nervously asked.

  “Hydonia. It will be your new home. Welcome home,” Cromi answered solemnly.

  Fenris spoke up. “Where are you from? Where are we going?”

  Cromi gave Fenris a thoughtful look, his eyes filled with admiration.

  “The Hydonia is an exploration vessel that escaped after Heborian was destroyed. We’re searching for a habitable planet. Let me tell you something: most of the regions we’ve passed through are occupied by aliens. Theoretically, aside from the Hydonia, you have nowhere else to go.”

  Everyone present, including the pirates, was stunned, their faces etched with shock.

  Three days later, Fenris awoke, still feeling as if he were dreaming. He lay on a hard metal bed, gazing at the metal ceiling.

  The room was small, about seven square meters, with no private bathroom. A bed and a desk constituted the furnishings; a ceiling light and a ventilation grill were the only other features.

  Though rescued, he had become a low-level citizen.

  The Hydonia was a gigantic interplanetary vessel. According to Cromi, it was approximately 80 kilometers long and 25 kilometers wide, housing over twenty million people.

  The ship wasn't entirely living quarters; the sheer density of the population on the Hydonia was staggering.

  Living areas were divided into five sectors: A, B, C, D, and F.

  Each sector enjoyed different levels of resources.

  Fenris was in Sector F, the lowest level, a designated area for displaced refugees. According to the Hydonia's Captain, the vessel was, in a sense, a living organism, requiring an influx of new blood.

  The Hydonia didn't support idle hands; after acceptance, residents had to find work to sustain themselves. Two currencies circulated on the Hydonia: credit points and star credits.

  Fenris was puzzled. Credit points made sense, but why were star credits still usable? Hadn't Cromi said most of the regions they'd passed through were occupied?

  This question plagued Fenris. The Hydonia had been wandering the vast universe for over two hundred years. Theoretically, the aliens, using some unknown method, had long since bypassed the Phirasia defense line.

  Heborian's destruction had also come from behind; the Hydonia couldn't retreat; it was heading towards the Phirasia line, seeking assistance.

  In other words, the ship was sailing towards the front lines.

  The Hydonia utilized advanced technology, employing light energy and energy crystals for propulsion. Resources were partially generated through the ship's recycling and production systems; the rest was scavenged along the way.

  Food synthesis technology was highly advanced; producing sufficient food wasn't a problem. However, a crucial factor was energy consumption.

  Fenris's small quarters weren't entirely without compensation. According to ship policy, he had unrestricted access for three months; essential resources like water were provided free during that period, as were other public utilities. After three months, usage required payment: 100 credit points or 100 star credits per month for the room, both currencies being of equal value.

  A knock on the door. Fenris opened it hesitantly.

  Cromi stood there, displaying a sunny smile.

  Minogue followed, carrying a crate.

  “Kid, won’t you invite us in?”

  “Come in,” Fenris replied.

  Cromi entered and surveyed the room.

  “How’s the adjustment going?”

  “Fine,” Fenris replied.

  “This synthesized food is for you,” Cromi said, gesturing for Minogue to place the crate down.

  Minogue set the crate on the table.

  “Didn’t the ship already provide rations?” Fenris asked, looking at Cromi.

  Cromi casually replied, “This is in addition to the ship's rations. Find work quickly, even if you have to beg. You need work to survive on this ship; otherwise, you’ll starve, and your body will become nutrients.”

  Fenris hesitated, then asked,

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Cromi sighed. “There aren’t many ‘whys.’ If you're alive, stay alive. I’ve got other places to go; this job is a real pain.”

  Cromi left.

  After seeing them off, Fenris looked at the crate of nutritional supplements and fell silent.

  The ship had already distributed seven days' worth of rations. This crate probably contained a month’s supply. The ship wouldn't be this generous; it was a personal gift from Cromi.

  Fenris took a deep breath; he needed to find work; he’d had no luck the past two days.

  Belloc’s technology was inferior to the Hydonia's; even if the refugees possessed skills, they were limited.

  Fenris went out, closing the door behind him.

  He looked around: dense metal buildings everywhere, interconnected by corridors that stretched downwards, seemingly endlessly. His room number was F2-65-345-214.

  F2 denoted the second section of Sector F; 65 was the building number; 345, the floor; and 214, the room number.

  During the day, Sector F residents could access Sector D, but they had to return by 7 pm. The ship used a 24-hour cycle; the ship’s AI controlled an artificial sun to simulate a day-night cycle, deemed optimal for human life.

  Fenris headed towards the corridor leading to Sector D. Job opportunities in Sector D were more plentiful than in Sector F, though competition was fierce; getting any job at all would be a victory. Don't expect high pay.

  Many shared his idea; Fenris even spotted some familiar faces—fellow refugees from the ship.

  Several recognized him and smiled; he returned the smiles and nods.

  Soon, he reached a junction; these junctions led to different sub-sectors of Sector D.

  This time, Fenris decided to try his luck in Sector D1.

  A checkpoint was situated at the junction between Sectors D and F; anyone entering Sector D had to undergo a scan—a form of discrimination, though not entirely unjustified. Sector F's living conditions were poor, with a constant influx of new refugees. Though initial body scans had been conducted on the ship, additional checks were necessary to ensure safety.

  Fenris arrived at the checkpoint, joining the queue.

  The scanning tunnel was spacious, processing people quickly.

  It was soon Fenris’s turn. He entered a specialized scanning archway.

  Upon entering, he felt different colored lights scan his body.

  “Identity verified.”

  “Fenris.”

  “Citizen Class 5.”

  “Physical status: Healthy.”

  “Mental status: Healthy.”

  Fenris heard the cold, mechanical voice as he passed through the scanner.

  Entering Sector D, the dense, low buildings gave way to streets lined with narrow shops selling a variety of goods.

  Fenris's task was simple: visit each shop and inquire about job openings.

  “Excuse me,” Fenris said, entering a small eatery.

  “Care for something to eat?” the middle-aged proprietress warmly greeted him.

  “I’m not here to eat. I’m wondering if you need any help,” Fenris asked.

  “Sorry, we’re a small business; we don’t need anyone. Try elsewhere.”

  Despite the rejection, Fenris responded politely.

  “Thank you.”

  As Fenris left, the proprietress sighed.

  A large, middle-aged man emerged from the back. “What? No customers?”

  “He was looking for work; a very polite young man.”

  “Hmm, I heard they took in another group of refugees a few days ago. That’s the fifth batch this month; the competition is fierce,” the large man sighed.

  Fenris patiently inquired at every shop; the responses were consistently curt: no openings.

  Now he understood Cromi's words; jobs were scarce.

  He glanced at the sky; it was getting dark; today’s prospects were slim.

  Fenris remained optimistic. He headed back towards Sector F.

  People hurried home, the day's work done.

  There was a well-known rule: avoid wandering outside; return to your quarters early to minimize expenses.

  Passing through the checkpoint, Fenris returned to his room.

  Lying on his bed, staring at the cold metal ceiling, he felt lost.

  He didn't know where he would end up. If what Cromi said was true—that the rear was devastated—was his father at the front lines?

  Fenris curled up, dismissing these thoughts, soon emptying his mind and falling asleep.

  He dreamt of happier times, years past.

  When Fenris opened his eyes, sunlight streamed through the small window.

  Another day began.

  Fenris washed, grabbed three nutritional bars, and left for Sector D.

  Whether he wanted to or not, life continued; he simply felt lonely; he hoped Echo would awaken; at least, then he’d have a companion.

  A fortnight later, Fenris sat on a bench in Sector D. Unfortunately, he still hadn’t found work; the competition was far fiercer than he’d anticipated.

  During that time, he’d encountered many in his situation, humbly seeking employment.

  Fenris realized his previous understanding of Cromi’s words had been superficial. He now understood the significance of the additional rations; he'd never expected new refugees to find work within seven days; job openings were saturated.

  Cromi had visited twice to offer encouragement.

  A breeze stirred; Fenris closed his eyes; the simulated environment was remarkably realistic.

  Suddenly, a flyer landed on his face.

  Fenris opened his eyes, instinctively removing the paper. A flyer? Such a primitive advertising method.

  He looked at it; a second later, he understood.

  It was a recruitment flyer for healthy males aged 16-100 (Note: In the era of interstellar navigation, the average human lifespan reaches 300 years; technology can extend it further, though at great cost. Individuals over a thousand years old aren't uncommon). Applicants required basic mechanical aptitude and strong mental fortitude. Exceptional mental fortitude could compensate for a lack of mechanical aptitude; training would be provided. The base monthly salary was 1000 credit points, plus commission; C-level medical insurance; temporary C-level reserve status; and guaranteed death benefits.

  C-level status explained: A-level designates special combat personnel; B-level, regular combat personnel; C-level, non-combat support personnel. C-level reserve status is a subset of C-level and equivalent to residential sector classification.

  The job, while sounding prestigious, was essentially resource acquisition.

  As mentioned, the Hydonia required constant external resource replenishment. This job involved operating specially modified resource acquisition vessels and specialized mechs to collect resources.

  Cromi had visited twice to offer words of encouragement.

  A breeze stirred; Fenris closed his eyes; the simulated environment was remarkably realistic.

  Suddenly, a flyer landed on his face.

  Fenris opened his eyes, brushing the paper away. A flyer? Such a primitive advertising method.

  He examined it; comprehension dawned.

  It was a recruitment advertisement for healthy males aged 16-100 (Note: In the age of interstellar navigation, average human lifespans reach 300 years; technology can extend this further, though at considerable cost. Individuals over a thousand years old are not uncommon). Applicants needed basic mechanical aptitude and strong mental fortitude. Exceptional mental fortitude could compensate for a lack of mechanical aptitude; training would be provided. Base monthly salary: 1000 credit points, plus commission; C-level medical insurance; temporary C-level reserve status; and guaranteed death benefits.

  A-level designates specialized combat personnel; B-level, regular combat personnel; C-level, non-combat support personnel. C-level reserve status is a subset of C-level and equivalent to residential sector classification.

  The job, while seemingly prestigious, was essentially resource acquisition.

  As noted, the Hydonia required constant external resource replenishment. This involved operating specially modified resource acquisition vessels and specialized mechs to gather resources.

  The job, while seemingly attractive, was exceptionally dangerous. Statistics showed an annual mortality rate of 30% for Hydonia resource acquisition teams. Essentially, those who took the job were flirting with death, resulting in fewer applicants each year. Furthermore, it wasn't a job anyone could handle; the poster's simplicity was a deliberate attempt to attract applicants; suitability was a secondary concern.

  The antiquated advertising method was intentional; their target demographic was Sectors D and F. These were the only sectors likely to yield applicants; there was a severe shortage of electronic devices in these sectors; sophisticated advertising wouldn't be effective.

  Fenris hesitated, then picked up the flyer and headed towards the address.

  The address wasn't far: D1-6-11-12.

  He arrived to find a small queue.

  He joined the back and waited.

  One by one, dejected applicants emerged, having been rejected.

  The screening process was swift; soon, it was Fenris’s turn.

  As soon as he entered, he heard a young woman sighing.

  A young woman with long black hair and dark eyes, wearing a red jacket, was rubbing her temples, looking distraught.

  “This is the how manyth unqualified applicant? Can’t we just lower the standards?”

  A man beside her held a report. “This is the best data from today’s 200 applicants. They all withstood 1.6G, with a Los value of 300 (abnormal body reaction value), and…”

  “Wait, stop! Let me be alone for a moment.” The woman groaned, exasperated.

  Fenris waited patiently, not urging the woman.

  She took a deep breath and slammed her fist on the table, startling the nearby staff.

  “Bring in the best one.”

  The man beside her touched his forehead. “Our requirements are 2G and a Los value of 500. This seems irregular.”

  “Irregular or not, we need him. We’re severely understaffed; we need at least a thousand more. Look how few we’ve recruited.”

  The woman twisted her neck.

  “You’re right, but even he’s insufficient.” the man sighed.

  The woman slumped in her chair, defeated.

  “Next.”

  “Fenris.” Fenris introduced himself.

  The woman looked up at Fenris and frowned.

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “So young. Go take the preliminary test.”

  Fenris followed a male staff member to another room.

  Inside was a large, egg-shaped machine with a control panel inside.

  “Sit down, grip the control lever. There's a button on the lever; press it if you feel uncomfortable; the test will end. Don't try to push yourself; you could die. Let me make this clear: if you die from overexertion, we're not liable.” The staff member stated flatly.

  “Understood.”

  Fenris sat in the egg-shaped cockpit.

  The egg slowly closed.

  A holographic image appeared.

  “Ready? Begin.”

  Fenris sat in the cockpit, gripping the lever, and calmly replied.

  “Ready.”

  The indicator lights on the control panel lit up. Suddenly, Fenris felt the immense pressure; something unseen seemed to bear down on him; the screen showed the G-force rising.

  1.01

  1.02

  …

  1.21

  Soon, it exceeded 1.61G.

  The staff member, who had initially been disinterested, was now wide-eyed; this kid was impressive.

  Fenris’s breathing remained steady; his Los value rapidly climbed, surpassing 500.

  When the G-force reached 2.1G, Fenris pressed the button.

  The invisible weight on him vanished instantly.

  The testing capsule opened, and a staff member approached.

  “Not bad, kid.”

  “Did I pass?” Fenris asked.

  “You’ll undergo a full body examination. If you’re healthy, you’re in. For someone so young, those are excellent scores. Unfortunately, you can’t join the guard; with your adaptability, you might have had a chance.”

  “Thank you.”

  Fenris understood what the man meant: most of these jobs involved controlling scavengers—modified mechs, often outdated and operated by individuals who didn't meet regular operator standards. They still needed at least 2/3 of their physical capabilities.

  Scavengers were often sent to planets with extremely harsh climates; their life support systems couldn't fully negate the dangers.

  And the dangers weren't just environmental; many planets harbored strange and dangerous creatures, including the most prevalent threats: the Swarm, Xenomorphs, and Nestlings (Note: Creatures classified as 'Placental' and 'True Body'. Placentals can morph into various forms, possessing incredible defense and rapid regeneration. The True Body is the creature's core; only by destroying it can the Nestling be completely eliminated).

  Encountering a few could easily be fatal.

  “We have a qualified candidate!” the woman excitedly approached.

  “This kid’s physical stats are good; there shouldn’t be any major problems. I just checked his health report from when he boarded—perfectly healthy. Of course, we’ll do another checkup.”

  “Let me see.” The woman took the electronic health report and glanced at it.

  “This was done a month ago. No need for another. Kid, follow me.”

  “This isn’t quite standard procedure, but it’s not a major issue.”

  Fenris followed the woman into an office. She pulled a thick contract from a drawer.

  “First, let me introduce myself. I’m Zyra, Deputy Director of the Logistics Resource Acquisition Department, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll ask a few questions; you must answer truthfully.”

  “Okay.” Fenris replied calmly.

  “Your name?”

  “Fenris.”

  “Do you understand the risks of this job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this your own volition?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is the contract. Please read it carefully. Let me remind you: once signed, unless under unavoidable circumstances, you must fulfill the three-year term. Termination before three years will result in substantial penalties. After three years, you may choose to renew or terminate. You'll receive a month of training; your base salary will be paid during that month. Do you have any questions?”

  “No.” Fenris replied.

  “Excellent. The rest of the terms are listed; please review them and sign.”

  Fenris carefully examined the contract. It wasn't overly favorable, but it wasn't unreasonable either.

  Soon, he signed.

  “According to the agreement, I can receive my first month’s salary in advance.” Fenris asked.

  “No problem. I’ll process it; the credits will be deposited into your account. Report to C1 Sector, Sixth Street, Seventh Building, Room 802 for training tomorrow at 9:00 AM. Don’t be late,” Zyra nodded.

  “No problem.” Fenris replied.

  “If you have any questions, consult the staff outside; they will explain everything thoroughly. Welcome aboard! We’re colleagues now.”

  Zyra smiled and offered her hand.

  Fenris was somewhat surprised; he shook her hand—a small, soft hand.

  Zyra nodded and left.

  Fenris felt it wasn't so bad after all.

  He went out, heading back to his small room.

  He soon returned to Sector F. Along the way—

  “Big brother!” a childish voice called.

  Fenris turned; it was the young girl from the ship; her mother walked behind, holding her hand.

  Fenris smiled.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Big brother, did you find a job?” the girl tilted her head, asking.

  Her mother quickly pulled her daughter back, apologizing. “Excuse us; Doll is being impolite.”

  “It’s fine; I did find a job,” Fenris replied.

  The girl looked up again. “Big brother, are jobs hard to find? Why can’t Papa find one, and why is he unhappy?”

  Fenris knelt, answering seriously. “Just be good, and your Papa will find a job.”

  The mother smiled gratefully at Fenris.

  Doll nodded.

  “Big brother gave you something.”

  “What?” Doll asked curiously.

  “Wait here a moment.” Fenris went to a nearby automated vending machine, verifying his identity and entering his password.

  Thunk!

  A crate of nutritional bars dropped down—one hundred bars, costing fifty credit points.

  Fenris carried the crate to Doll, placing it before her.

  “For you.”

  Doll's mother quickly shook her head.

  “Thank you, no need.”

  Doll quickly shook her head as well. “No, thank you, big brother.”

  “Take it.” Fenris patted Doll’s head and left.

  Doll’s mother called out from behind; Fenris waved and continued on his way.